


What Happens in Manhattan...

by peopleareicebergs



Category: Leah on the Offbeat - Becky Albertalli
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 20:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20377858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peopleareicebergs/pseuds/peopleareicebergs
Summary: A little less than a year after the events of Leah on the Offbeat, Abby and Leah take a trip up to New York City to visit Bram and Simon.





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey,” I whisper, tapping Leah’s shoulder.

No response.

“Hey,” I say again, louder this time.

Jesus, this girl sleeps like a rock.

And I almost don’t want to wake her up. I just want to look at her and look at her. Is that creepy? I just want to kneel here on the floor until my knees hurt, watching the shadows from the curtains move slowly over her cheeks.

No, what I _ really _ want to do is climb into this bed and burrow into her. And she’ll nuzzle my hair and wrap her arms around me and -- and nobody hugs like Leah Burke. Nobody has ever made me feel so safe.

But we have a bus to catch. Ugh.

Sometime last December, I discovered she’s _ super _ ticklish in this one spot right below her ribs. (It was an accident. Seriously, I wasn’t even trying to tickle her. I was just… you know, _ touching _ her, and suddenly she squirmed and legit squealed. I didn’t even know Leah _ could _ squeal. I don’t think she knew either.) Anyway, I poke her right in that spot and her eyes bolt open and she gasps.

Then she blinks.

Then she says, “You were in my dream.” It comes out sleepy and soft, and is it possible for a person to melt into a puddle? Asking for a friend.

“Suso, you did _ not _ just tickle me to wake me up.” And _ there’s _ my Leah, awake for real now.

“I want to hear more about this dream,” I say, and she blushes so hard I literally have no choice but to lean in and kiss her.

After a few moments, she reaches out and clasps her hands around my waist, drawing me toward her. It would be _ so _ much easier to just let her pull me down onto the bed. (And I mean that both psychologically and physically. My girl’s a drummer - her arms are _ strong_.)

But.

But.

(We’re still kissing.)

But.

“Have to... go...” I murmur against her lips.

Her tongue slides between my teeth. I try to sigh exasperatedly, but it sounds an awful lot like a moan.

Seems like Leah and I are having similar dreams these days.

Holy shit, my heart is beating _ so fast. _

Holy. Shit. My body is on _ fire_.

We don’t have time for this.

We can’t do this right now.

We _ need _ to do this right now.

I fall on top of her, kissing her harder. She slides her hands up the back of my top and I weave my fingers through her hair. And she’s _ hot_, so hot, burning in all the same places I am.

I pull up to catch my breath for a second, just a split-second, and our eyes open and she looks so perfect: sleep-tousled, flushed, green eyes wide with… surprise, maybe, like she can’t quite believe this is happening either - but something else, too. And when she cups my cheeks and yanks my lips back onto hers, I know what it is.

Leah Burke _ wants _ me.

God, that is the _ hottest fucking thought I have ever had_.

And then both of our phones vibrate.

Because of _ course _ they do.

We freeze, her hands on my hips and mine tight against her shoulderblades, clutching her like I’m drowning and she’s my life preserver.

For a few seconds, there’s no sound but our breathing, mingled and heavy.

“I love that kid,” Leah says, “but I’m going to kill him.”

“Get in line.”

We keep lying there, gazing into each other’s eyes. Which, wow, I thought “gazing into each other’s eyes” was just a romance novel trope, but here we are.

My insides feel coiled like a spring, and I can’t even _ begin _ to untangle all the sources of tension. I mean, some part of me is worried about missing our bus, and I’ve been weirdly anxious all week about seeing Simon and Bram for the first time in so long (even though we text and email all the time), and of course I’m increasingly a bundle of nerves every time Leah and I make out because we’ve started doing more… exploring, and I know she wanted to take things slow at first because this is her first relationship but I’m not sure what she’s thinking about that now, and I’m honestly not sure what _ I _ want - like, Nick and I fooled around but we never went that far, and I don’t know if that was because some part of me knew he wasn’t right for me, or if it was another way of trying to single-handedly disprove all the fucking stereotypes about black girls --

Oh my god, Abby, stop thinking. You’re lying on top of your adorable, perfect, sexy as hell girlfriend, and you want to touch her (and be touched) _ everywhere_. It’s not that complicated.

Leah lifts her head off the pillow, kisses me softly, and reaches for her phone. Her movement shifts me to the side, so I slide off her and rest my head on her shoulder.

Whenever I’m next to her like this, with nothing but our clothes between us, I can’t help

thinking about the sleepover at Morgan’s house - and the sketch Leah drew of us, cuddled together. It’s the most bittersweet picture I own.

Because I stared at it so often that I finally realized just how much I liked her.

But by the time I figured that out, I was already with Nick.

So much time. So much wasted time I could have spent with Leah. It kills me.

She glances at the text and snorts. “What is it this time?” I ask. At least twice a day for the last week, Simon has changed his mind about what he thinks we should do in New York.

“Central Park Zoo.” She rolls her eyes.

“What’s wrong with the zoo?”

Let the record state that Leah Burke is an absolute _ master _ of side-eye. “Nothing,” she says, “unless you find wild animals trapped in tiny fake habitats solely for humans’ entertainment problematic.”

“Well, I mean, if they’re cute…”

Leah shakes her head and types something on her phone. “Yeah,” she says with a defeated sigh, “they have red pandas.”

“Oh my god, really?” I _ love _ red pandas. Literally the most cuddly and adorable animals on the planet.

Leah glares at me, and I just smile back. “What can I say? I’ve got a thing for super-cute redheads.”

Her eyes soften, but then she turns back to her phone. “I’m vetoing the zoo,” she says. “I don’t want any competition.”

“Probably a good call,” I tell her. “I hear red pandas give amazing hugs.” The corners of her mouth curl up. She wraps an arm around me and tugs me tight against her, and everything just seems to… fall away. I breathe in, and it’s all _ her_. I swear, I could smell nothing but Leah for a year and it would be the best year of my life. Maybe that’s a weird thing to think. I don’t care.

God, her scent is _ doing _ things to me. All of a sudden my body’s humming again. Maybe we can spare a little bit more time. Maybe we don’t need to get to the station early.

Maybe I should just kiss her instead of overthinking this.

“So,” Leah says, “should we…”

I lift my head to look at her. Should we... what? Does she want to do this? _ Really _ do this? Wait, what do I even mean by _ this_? What do _ I _ want to do?

“...get ready to go?” Leah finishes when I don’t say anything.

Yeah, so much for not overthinking.

“Yes,” I say, sitting up and nodding a little harder than necessary to try to clear my head.

I shiver a little. The room is plenty warm, but it’s always colder outside her arms.


	2. Chapter 2

We’ve been waiting for the Megabus to start boarding for twenty minutes now, and all I can think about is what else we could have done with those twenty minutes.

At least until something catches my attention - a small movement off to my left. As soon as I consciously notice it, I realize I’ve seen it several times in the last few minutes. I look up from my phone, and there’s a middle-aged white couple standing twenty feet away.

Both of whom are looking right at me.

Well, the woman’s looking at me. Her husband (boyfriend? nope, there’s the ring) is staring at Leah’s thigh, where her hand rests on mine.

And their expressions make me… so many things. Furious. Hurt. Totally unsurprised.

The woman turns away the second I meet her gaze and nudges her husband to make sure he does the same. I don’t move; I just start counting. Three seconds, five seconds, eight… and sure enough, both of them glance back over at us. They try to be clever about it - she focuses on Leah this time, while he’s the one looking at me - and immediately swivel their heads when they realize I’m still watching them, feigning interest in the bus schedule on a nearby bulletin board.

Bullshit.

I turn to Leah and tilt my head toward her. (Her hair’s still a little damp from the shower. And now I’m picturing Leah in the shower. Damnit, Abby, _ focus_.) “Those people over there keep looking at us,” I say under my breath, gesturing vaguely to the left.

She looks up, eyes narrowing, and stares in the direction I indicated. I keep my eyes off to the right; I don’t need to see that shit again.

“What the fuck?” Leah says after a moment.

“Yeah,” I say heavily. “I was hoping I’d just imagined it.”

“Why are they --” She glances down at our hands, understanding dawning, and... okay, so Leah thinks she has resting bitch face. I disagree - I mean, she can be intimidating, but it’s not her default - but I haven’t found a way to convince her.

Maybe if I showed her a picture of herself right now, she’d understand. Because _ this _ is her I Will Straight-Up _ End _ You face. I swear I can feel her fury radiating like heat. I look back at the asshole couple, who seem a little taken aback by the intensity of Leah’s stare.

She turns to me then, her eyes blazing, and kisses me so hard I almost fall over. I see stars - literal stars - behind my eyelids, and I’m not sure if that’s because of the kiss or the fact that our foreheads bumped together when she crashed into me.

Definitely the kiss.

Holy _ shit_.

I can’t even remember what was just happening.

God, I want to kiss this girl for_ever_.

And then she pulls back - how long did that actually last? I have no idea - and she grins so mischievously it makes me giggle, and then she looks off into the distance and I follow her gaze and there’s that couple, gaping at us like we just spent five minutes cussing them out.

Which we really _ should _ have.

The woman audibly huffs, and then the two of them turn and walk away. A _ long _ way away.

“I’ll never understand,” Leah says, “how people can get so bent out of shape at the thought of two girls kissing.”

_ Two girls kissing_. It reminds me of prom night, of the commission I asked her for on tumblr - shortly before it became a beautiful, glorious reality.

She flat-out refused to accept money for the drawing, so I paid her in kisses instead. Seemed fitting.

I want to smile at the memory, but the resigned sadness is coming back. “Or the thought of a white girl kissing a black girl,” I say quietly. Maybe that’s what happened here and maybe it isn’t, but Nick and I certainly got plenty of it.

There’s a pause. “Do people seriously still have a problem with that?” Leah asks. I nod, and she sighs. “I fucking hate the South.”

My laugh sounds all wrong. “I had a white boyfriend for a little bit in D.C.,” I say. “We got a few nasty looks too.”

“Jesus.” She takes my hand, laces her fingers through mine, and squeezes. “We just break _ all _ the rules, don’t we?”

Her eyes are so serious. I want to strangle the whole fucking world for disappointing her.

I give her hand a squeeze and lean into her. She kisses my temple, and it’s quiet, and it’s warm, and everything’s okay. I mean, the _ world _ isn’t okay, but _ we _ are. We are _ more _ than okay. And the world can go fuck itself.

\-------

_ Sorcerer’s Stone _ doesn’t take me nearly as long as I’d hoped. I know I’m a fast reader, but still - turns out it goes much quicker the second time around. According to my phone, we’re only three hours into this twelve-hour bus ride.

Literally half a day - plus a few more hours on a train - just to see two of our best friends in the world.

This country is too big.

The book makes a _ thump _ when I close it, and Leah looks up. “That was quick,” she says, and she sounds almost dubious - like maybe she suspects me of skipping a few chapters.

A crime whose consequences I don’t even want to imagine.

"Are you accusing me of something, Leah Burke?"

The corners of her mouth curl up. "That depends. Do you have something to confess?"

"I do, actually. I…" I take a deep breath and bite my lip, and I guess I haven't lost the acting touch because Leah's half-smile falters a little. "I ship Hermione and Draco."

Oh my god, her eyes narrow _ so hard _ I almost burst out laughing.

"Sorry, but no," she says. "There's only one Gryffindor for Draco."

"Oh come on! Draco would get bored with Harry in like a week. He only wants him because he's not supposed to."

Leah just rolls her eyes - but then she gets a kind of faraway look, so I know she’s actually considering it.

"Okay," she says a minute later, "I'm cool with it."

"Wow, that was it? You're easy." My cheeks get hot as soon as the words are out of my mouth, but Leah doesn't seem to notice.

"I mean, you're shipping the badass black Gryffindor girl with the Slytherin." She gives me a sly little smile. "Can't argue with that."

...Wait, what?

"You think I'm a Gryffindor?" I ask.

"Well, yeah. You're like… at home in any situation. You walk into anywhere and light up the whole room. You're…" She trails off.

I take her hand. "I'm what?"

She swallows. "You're… brave, you know? All the shit I gave you last year, when you were just trying to figure yourself out - and you still did that ask on tumblr at prom. I was freaking out _ constantly_. Like, seriously, I don't know if you noticed but I was a mess - and you still… pursued me."

We're quiet for a moment. She starts rubbing my thumb with hers, gentle strokes where our fingers entwine.

I want to say something about how I totally _ did _ notice how much of a mess she was (and about how badly I was spinning out every second I thought about her - which was _ every _ second) - but what comes out instead is, “I’m kind of scared to see Simon and Bram. Not exactly brave.”

Leah’s thumb stills. “Why are you scared?”

“I don’t know, it’s just… it’s been so long, you know?”

“We text and email them all the time though.”

She’s right, of course. I’m freaking out over nothing. Making mountains out of molehills. “Good point,” I say. “I’m being stupid. Forget I said anything.”

The bus rumbles past a large pond. I watch a family of ducks glide across its surface - a full-grown parent and six little ducklings - and I think Leah’s doing the same until she sighs heavily. “You’re not stupid,” she says. She sounds pretty annoyed.

“I’m sorry.” God, I wish I _ was _ a Gryffindor. Daring, nerve, and chivalry sound pretty good right about now.

“No, it’s not -- you’re not -- don’t be sorry. I’m just…” I suddenly notice how tense she’s gotten. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, puffing her cheeks. “I’m nervous too,” she says quietly.

“You are?”

She nods. “It’s weird, you know? You go from seeing each other every day to literally never. And now it’s like we think things will just be normal again as soon as we get there, but what if... they’re not?”

I untangle my hand from hers and wrap my arm around her, leaning into her as far as these halfway-comfortable seats allow. “Totally. That’s _ exactly _ how I feel. Like, they probably have new people now that they hang out with all the time. It’s not going to be like it used to.”

Leah laughs. “What?” I ask.

“Nothing.” I turn to look at her, my eyebrows raised. “Okay, fine,” she says. “When you joined our group, I sort of thought Simon was… replacing me. With you. And now I’ve replaced _ him _ with you.”

“If you’re telling me you used to make out with Simon, I have some questions.”

She grins and turns bright red. “Oh my _ god_, Abby.”

“What? I was just going to ask who’s the better kisser.” My eyes move down to her lips, and I think she notices, because she leans in quickly and kisses me. “I guess that answers my question,” I say, and she rolls her eyes.

I check my phone - nothing new from Simon. I get carsick if I stare at it for too long, but I don’t want to start _ Chamber of Secrets _ just yet.

“So what are you?” Leah asks.

“What am I?”

“If you’re not a Gryffindor.”

“Oh, I’m a Hufflepuff.” She looks at me skeptically. “It’s true! Unafraid of toil? That’s totally me. I work my ass off.”

Her lips curl into a smirk. “I hope not,” she says. “I like that ass.”

“Okay, you did _ not _ just say that.” At least she has the decency to look at little sheepish.

But now I’m thinking about her body, because she’s thinking about mine, and we’re facing ten-plus hours on public transportation followed by a few days sharing a tiny room with Bram and Simon and _ I just want to touch her so badly_.

And… can she read my mind? Because now her hand is on my knee, and she’s sliding it slowly up my thigh, and my insides pull taut and my heart goes haywire and -- and we can’t -- we can’t do this -- here --

“Lee,” I say, and I have _ never _ heard my voice sound like that - warning and wanting, low and lost.

I pull her against me and kiss her _ hard_. Her arms wrap around me, drawing her hand off my thigh, away from where I _ need _ her…

And yeah, the passengers across the aisle are probably staring at us, but they’ll just have to deal. For what feels like ages, Leah and I barely come up for air.

The tension inside me gradually eases, and eventually I feel like I’ve spent enough of my lust to survive the rest of this trip. (Or at least the rest of this bus ride.) I kiss her a few more times, then lean my head on her shoulder and snuggle against her.

“You _ do _ know you’re not actually a Slytherin, right?” I say.

“What?” She’s still a little breathless. “Yes I am. I always have been.”

“You know, I sometimes think we sort too soon.”

Leah snorts. “Did you seriously just pull a Dumbledore quote on me? God, you really _ are _ the perfect girl.”

I swear, my whole body smiles. I just want to live in this moment forever, giddy and warm and with the taste of cute girl who thinks I’m perfect still on my lips.

“You should read to me,” I say. She looks down at the book in her lap. _ Deathly Hallows _ \- her seventh re-read. “What part are you at?”

“The Forest Again.”

“Ooh, your favorite chapter!”

“How did you know it’s my favorite?”

I roll my eyes. “It started to occur to me somewhere around the five hundredth time you gushed about it.”

“I do _ not _ gush.”

“Yes. You do. Now read.”

She huffs, but she opens the book and starts reading. I quickly lose myself in it, wrapped up in her voice. She tells the story passionately, but her voice is still so soothing, so calming, so cozy and warm and lovely. It’s the first voice I hear when I wake up in the morning and the last voice I hear before I fall asleep.

It’s Leah’s voice.

It’s home.


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this stiff in my life.”

Leah responds by stretching widely, cracking what sounds like every bone in her body. “_Please _tell me we’re done sitting.”

“Wish I could, babe.” She gives me a look - and not because we’re still a half-hour cab ride from Columbia. My girl’s not a huge fan of pet names, but I’m slowly wearing her down. “Well, you _ are_. Can’t blame me for being honest.”

I avoid her eye roll by pulling out my phone and sending a quick text. “Okay, just let Bram know we’re here. Now where do we…” But before I can finish that thought, my phone buzzes.

“What?” Leah asks, seeing my raised eyebrows.

“He’s sending us an Uber.”

She snorts. “Remind me to tell Simon to marry him. This dude’s a keeper.”

I take her hand and lean into her a little. New York in mid-March is chilly. She wraps an arm around me and I shiver like you do when you step into a warm shower.

One Uber ride later, we’re standing outside Bram’s building, and I’m trying not to look too much like a tourist. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been in big cities before. This doesn’t look all that different from Atlanta… but there’s still something about the _ feel _ of New York City. Maybe it’s just knowing where I am that does it - maybe this city’s reputation makes it seem like more than it is.

Or maybe it really _ is_.

“Abby! Leah!” Bram’s voice calls, and I turn to see him jogging toward us. We all hug each other, and wow, it’s actually Bram. Not a text, not an email, not even FaceTime - he’s actually right here.

“It’s so good to see you!” I say.

“It’s good to see you too!” he says, and we’re all smiling at each other... and then I’m not quite sure what to say next, because we’re already pretty caught up on the major events in each other’s lives. I know how his classes are going, how he feels about living in NYC, how his family’s doing, and oh god this silence is starting to stretch out. How did we used to fill all of those empty seconds between classes and shows and stuff?

“So,” Bram finally says, “I wasn’t sure how tired you might be, but the guys down the hall from me are having a party…”

Perfect! Way fewer silences to fill at a party. I’m about to start nodding --

But then I catch Leah’s eye, and the look on her face is all too familiar. She’s warmed to college parties a bit, but at least those at UGA are full of people she knows.

“We can go to parties anywhere,” I say. “But this is New York City! And we’ve been sitting for a literal day. We demand a tour.”

“Oh, okay, sure,” Bram says. “What do you want to see?”

Leah and I glance at each other. She gives me a quick, grateful smile, then shrugs.

“Everything,” I say.

Bram blinks. “Everything?”

“Yes, Bram, everything,” Leah says. “Kindly show us the entirety of Manhattan in one evening.”

“Actually, just in an hour or two,” I say. “Sitting on buses and trains is remarkably tiring.”

We head north, and for a few minutes, people-watching is all the entertainment we need. So many different kinds of people - walking, talking, laughing, kissing - all of them living their wholly unique lives and just loving each other for it.

Cities are fucking _ beautiful_.

“So I have a favor to ask,” Bram says after a few blocks.

“What’s up?” Leah asks.

“Well, you know how Simon gets in tomorrow morning, right?” he says, biting his lip.

“Yeah…”

“We haven’t seen each other in person since… god, it’s been like _ seven weeks_.”

I look over at Leah, and she meets my gaze - no doubt thinking the same thing I am. I can barely imagine spending seven weeks living in a different _ room _ than her, let alone a different _ state_. Bram sounds a little desperate, and I can’t say I’m surprised.

I also totally get what he’s asking.

“What time do you need us to clear out?”

He smiles, his cheeks coloring a little. “Eight? Maybe? I know you just got here and probably want to sleep in…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Leah says. “We’re on it.”

“Yeah,” I say, “we’ll give you two lovebirds _ plenty _ of time.”

Both of them blush.

\---

I wake to a soft breath in my ear, blinking at the light streaming through the window. Apparently neither Bram nor his roommate have heard of curtains.

I turn my head - slowly, careful not to disturb the girl tangled up with me - and my lips curl into a smile because god, _ every _morning should be like this. Usually I’m seeing her from a few feet away, each of us in our own bed, separated by so much pointless space.

But here we are. We returned to Bram’s dorm last night after an hour of looking at people and buildings that all ran together, holding each other up through our exhaustion, and we collapsed on the air mattress without ever letting go - and here we are, cuddled together after a night in each other’s arms.

The clock on Bram’s nightstand says we still have ten minutes before my alarm. I shift slightly so I can face her without getting a cramp in my neck, and -- shit. I _ really _ have to pee.

Bladders are the fucking worst.

I try to ignore it but it’s no use. Leah’s even breathing catches a few times as I gently unwrap myself from her and slip out of the room.

I’m quick, but by the time I make it back, Leah has rolled over, her arm stretched over where my body used to be.

It’s times like this I wish teleportation was a thing. Just zip to the bathroom and then right back into place.

Leah stirs as I try to nestle back into her. Her eyes flutter open and she gives me a sleepy smile, and she’s _ achingly _ beautiful.

“Hi,” she says.

I kiss her, because there’s literally nothing else I can do with that.

“Good morning.”

She looks around the room, squinting at Bram - who’s still snoring away. “So _ bright_. How does he sleep through this?”

“_You _ were sleeping through this until I woke you.” I tap her on the nose, which she then scrunches in that adorable way she knows I can’t resist.

I kiss her again.

And then a few more times.

And our hands are just starting to take things further when my alarm goes off.

We startle, pulling apart as Bram snorts and sits up. “Morning,” he says. He practically leaps off the bed, barely glancing at us as he speeds out the door, presumably heading for a shower.

“Huh,” I say. “Guess he’s got something on his mind.”

“Can’t imagine what,” Leah deadpans.

An hour later we’re standing outside, crowds bustling past us in every direction.

“There is absolutely no reason,” Leah says, “for anybody to be walking this fast this early.”

I put on my best Judy Garland impression. “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Georgia anymore.”

She snorts and opens her mouth to reply… and then two people bike down the street, which wouldn’t be noteworthy if they weren’t dressed all in green.

Like, _ all _ in green. Shoes and earmuffs included.

“Are you seeing this too,” Leah says, “or am I imagining it?”

“Looks like we made it to the end of the yellow brick road already,” I say, my lips curling into a smile because, come on, what are the odds?

“Works for me,” she says. “I’m always down for less walking.”

“Speaking of which, what should we do with our newfound freedom?” I hold up my MetroCard - one of two that Bram gifted us in exchange for our strategic absence from his dorm room this morning. “I was going to suggest walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, but I guess that’s off the table.”

She elbows me. “I kind of want to check out The Strand.” She says it casually, but she shrugs and ducks her hands into the pockets of her jacket - which means she _ really _ wants to go. Leah likes to pretend she’s more disinterested than she is - so when she’s super excited about something, she feels the need to act like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

It took me four somewhat confusing dates to figure this out.

“Works for me,” I say, “but first you should probably tell me what The Strand is.”

She breaks into this grin that seriously stretches from ear to ear, and starts talking a mile a minute about used books, old books, rare books, art books, eighteen miles of books. “And it’s really easy to get there, we just take the 1 train south for ten stops and then walk a few blocks.”

I take her hand, my smile as wide as hers. “You had me at books.”

\---

It’s been the perfect morning. Well, not _ perfect _ perfect - that would be me and Leah curled up in bed for hours doing things that are probably not appropriate to think about in a bookstore. (...Except this particular bookstore has a remarkably well-stocked erotica section. And no, I _ definitely _ didn’t spend ten minutes staring at a few carefully chosen covers until Leah found me and raised her eyebrows and my cheeks practically caught on fire.)

But it’s certainly up there, as mornings go. We grabbed bagels from a deli near the subway exit, because it’s New York City - I’m pretty sure you’re legally required to eat a bagel on your first morning here. And since then we’ve been browsing pretty much the greatest place I have ever been to in my life. I check my phone, and holy shit, we’ve been here for almost three hours.

I find Leah, who’s currently engrossed in a graphic novel. “You know,” I say, “the Brooklyn Bridge is less than eighteen miles long.”

“The Brooklyn Bridge is notoriously lacking in Wonder Woman,” she says, not even glancing up from what I now realize is a Wonder Woman comic.

“I guess I know what I should be for Halloween this year.”

“Why wait till Halloween?” She stills, her eyes no longer roving over the page, as if she can’t quite believe she just said that.

I can’t resist. “Why, Leah,” I say in a low voice, “are you suggesting we… role play?”

“Abby,” she groans, raising the comic and covering her face with it.

“Who would you be?” I ask. “Another superhero, or maybe… a damsel in distress?”

She shakes her head, the book still hiding her expression. This is fantastic payback for her catching me checking out erotica.

And… it _ might _ be turning me on a little.

I take a step closer to her, near enough now that I can whisper. "Or maybe you're my archnemesis." I'm not quite sure where this is coming from, but Leah peeks one eye out from behind the comic. "We battle back and forth, obsessing over each other, constantly longing for the next time we meet. And one day, after years of tension, we can't take it anymore." She shivers and drops her arms, staring at me with dark green eyes. "We run toward each other, telling ourselves to _ fight _ \- but at the last second…"

Leah's eyes rake down my body. I imagine what she's picturing: me, in a tight-fitting top and a short blue skirt. My heartbeat pounds in my ribcage. Tendrils of heat arc through my chest and down, down, pooling between my thighs.

There is _ nothing _ hotter than being wanted.

I want to do _ everything _ with this girl.

As soon as I think it, I know it's true. It's probably been true for a long time. Maybe I just needed a certain amount of time to figure it out, or maybe it's being here that did it - this bookstore, this city, this place a thousand miles from home with its millions of people that I'd happily ignore if it meant spending more time with my love.

My love.

I _ love _ Leah Burke.

Damn. The truth bombs are hitting me hard all of a sudden.

"You're _ sure _ you don't ship Drarry?" Leah asks.

I have to blink several times to bring myself back because I'm kind of spinning out but in a good way, mostly, I think, if that's possible. "What?"

"Enemies to lovers," she says. "It's very Draco and Harry."

I'm still trying to cool off and she's making a Harry Potter reference? Time and place, girl, time and place.

But then her gaze flicks downward again, and my eyes refocus on reality enough to notice that she's still flushed, and maybe talking about Drarry is just a deflection. Maybe she needs a cold shower as badly as I do.

God, I want that to be true. I want take her to our room and peel off our clothes and _ not cool down_.

But we're so far away from our room. And I don't know if she's ready to take that step.

"Draco and Hermione are enemies too," I say, and it's only then that I register that Leah just used the word _ lovers_. Such an old-sounding word for something that feels so young and electric and alive.

I have _ got _ to get myself under control. Now that I've thought about it - undressed us in my mind - I can't stop. At least it's not visibly apparent; I don't know how guys manage to think about sex in public without it being blatantly obvious.

"Okay," Leah says, "but they're not, like, _ enemies_. They hate each other, but then they forget about it, because they don't really _ matter _ to each other."

My phone buzzes, saving me from having to hold up my end of the debate in my semi-delirious condition. "We're expected back for lunch in forty minutes," I tell her.

"Coast is clear?"

"I sure hope so. Might be a little awkward otherwise."

We make our way to the cashiers, each carrying a book to keep. Leah's is the Wonder Woman comic, naturally, while mine is a history of the black elite and working class in Atlanta. When I stumbled across it, I realized that I knew way more about the black community in Washington than in my adopted city - and Atlanta is no D.C.

I take Leah's hand as we walk outside, squinting in the sunlight we left behind hours ago. The crisp winter-spring air fills my lungs, and everything in me is suddenly calm and utterly content. It's a beautiful day, and I've got a beautiful girlfriend, and we're going to see our beautiful friends.

Even the subway is beautiful. Most of the passengers are asleep or glued to their phones, of course, but at our sixth stop, a group of guys gets on and starts singing. Only a few riders make eye contact with them. Leah looks uncomfortable, which I get, but I just find the whole thing wonderful. I know they're probably doing this for money, and it's going to be awkward when they're done because I don't have a lot to spare - but they're absolutely nailing those harmonies, and their beat-boxer has some serious talent.

I like to notice those things, those little moments that stand out. It's not so different from waking up in your girlfriend's arms, you know? It's temporary, and things might feel worse when it's over, but it still makes you a little giddy while it's happening.

Maybe that's just part of being a Hufflepuff.

In any case, I _ don't _ notice the boy standing with Simon and Bram in front of Bram's building until Leah stops short half a block away. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she says.

I look from her back to the boys, and finally realize that the guy with his back to us is talking to our friends.

Our friends who don't look very pleased.

And then I realize who it is - right before Nick Eisner turns around and starts waving at us.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, Nick," Leah says, "are you on spring break too?"

We're walking to what Bram described as the best pizza place in the city - which seems unlikely, but I'm excited about it anyway. Or at least I was, before my ex-boyfriend invited himself along.

"Nope," Nick says. "Just wanted to see these guys, and I knew they'd both be here." He turns to face me, which makes this the sixth time he's done so in the last two blocks.

Not that I'm counting.

"I had no idea you two would be here too!" His tone is all surprise and delight, which either means he can’t read the room or he’s lying. Or both.

I keep staring straight ahead, but I catch a quick movement out of the corner of my eye - Nick’s gaze flicking downward, focusing on where my hand is clasped in Leah’s. It’s been there since she grabbed it the instant she saw him standing with Simon and Bram.

Nick keeps staring, which makes me start to wonder if it’s not my hand he’s looking at. _ Gross. _

I have no idea what to do here. I’m not sure if Leah notices. Am I just being paranoid? She’s known him way longer than I have - if she’s not weirded out, maybe everything’s cool.

But I also got to know Nick in ways Leah never did.

...Okay, that sounds _ way _ dirtier than I meant it. God, I just -- why couldn’t he have been _ normal _ about it? Yeah, I broke up with him, but it was going to happen sooner or later. And I got together with Leah pretty soon after that, but he made out with Taylor first!

And then he avoided us _ all summer_. That was the craziest part. I went from talking to him all the time to never, practically overnight. And I mean, sure, Nick wasn’t super talkative or whatever, but he opened up more and more over time. (...Which sounds uncomfortably similar to my relationship with Leah, now that I think about it. Do I just always go for the silent type?)

Leah gives my hand a squeeze. I blink a few times and look over at her. She’s giving me a little half-smile, and my thoughts slow their anxious spiral.

When we all went off to college, I thought this awkwardness was behind me. Now it’s back, and at the worst possible time - when I want nothing more than to take the girl I love somewhere private and reenact everything I saw in The Strand’s erotica section.

But at least she’s here with me. We’ll make it through this. Hell, we made it through the drama of senior year - this’ll be a piece of cake.

Simon’s asking Nick something about Tufts as we reach the restaurant. The two of them pick a round table and sit next to each other, and I’m worried about ending up next to Nick - but then Bram sits on Nick’s other side, giving up his chance to be closer to Simon so that Leah and I both have a buffer.

Remind me to give Bram a huge hug later.

The boys carry the conversation for a while, talking about classes and grades and majors. Sounds like Simon keeps me and Leah more up to date on his life than he does Nick. (I only half-heartedly try to keep the smug satisfaction off my face.)

Leah's hand is suddenly on my thigh.

Keep it together, Abby.

"So how's Georgia these days?" Nick asks. I struggle to reassign some of my attention to him. "You two are roommates, right?"

"Yep," Leah says.

"It's pretty great," I add.

He laughs. "Which part is great - Georgia or living together?" It's a subtle shift in word choice - from _ roommates _ to _ living together _ \- but it doesn't sit right with me. Like he's simultaneously denying and idealizing Leah's and my relationship. Is that possible? I'm probably overthinking again.

"Both," Leah says shortly. "How's Taylor?"

Nick's face falls so hard I have to suppress a snort. He's kidding, right? In no universe is Nick Eisner this expressive.

"We broke up," he says. "Last week."

"Aw, man," Simon says, "that sucks. Sorry, Nick."

Nick half-shrugs. "It's whatever." He shakes his head. "I don't even know why I said it like that. We didn't _ break up _ \- _ she _ broke up with _ me_."

There's a pause, and I can feel everyone's eyes on me even though they're all still looking at Nick. Leah's grip on my thigh tightens a little.

"Well," Bram says, coming to my rescue again, "plenty of other fish in the sea, right?"

"She's probably already hooking up with somebody else," Nick says, like he didn't even hear Bram. "You know how it goes."

Leah stiffens even further. Simon's staring straight down at the table.

The waitress comes by, and we all order without looking at each other.

“So,” I say, because the silence is killing me, “what’s everyone doing over the summer?” I already know everybody’s answer to this question - well, except Nick’s, but I don’t give a shit about his.

Simon jumps in. “My family’s going to Europe in July.”

“Nice,” Nick says. “Where in Europe?”

“A few different places - we’re going on a cruise in the Mediterranean. It’s gonna be so awesome.”

“Is Alice going too?” I ask. She stayed at Wesleyan last summer to take some classes - part of her master plan to graduate a year early - and I know Simon’s been missing her. 

“Yeah!” he says, lighting up. “And Theo too! And --” He suddenly blushes and clams up, his gaze flicking nervously to Bram.

“And what?” Leah asks.

Bram puffs his cheeks and exhales. “And the Speers invited me, too.”

“That’s amazing!” I say. “...Isn’t it?” Why are they both acting so awkward about this? I’d give _ anything _ to take a trip like that with Leah.

Whose grip on me, I realize, has loosened. And now she’s tracing small spirals over my jeans.

“Are they making you stay in separate rooms or something?” Leah asks, her eyebrow raised.

Simon shakes his head, still looking to Bram as if waiting for permission to say more.

“Can we talk about this later?” Bram asks quietly. It’s clearly directed at Simon, but Nick intercepts it and decides the best thing to do is barrel straight ahead.

“Dude, you’re crazy! How can you possibly pass that up?”

Maybe that was just one question too many, or maybe it’s because Nick was the one asking. Whatever the reason, _ this _ time Bram unloads.

“Because it just seems like too much, okay? It’s a Mediterranean cruise. Those things aren’t cheap. I’m not really comfortable getting all that for free.”

“My parents don’t --” Simon tries, but Bram cuts him off.

“I know they don’t mind, Si, but _ I’m _ not okay with accepting it. I’m not their kid.”

“Neither is Theo.”

Bram sighs. “That’s… it’s different. Or maybe it isn’t, and he just feels differently about things. I don’t know. I’m just not sure.”

Leah and I share a glance. Her expression is a lot of things - like, concerned-amused-exasperated. I think I get it, though. Money causes problems for people in our section of the socioeconomic spectrum a lot more often than for people in Simon’s - so it’s nice to not have to deal with that for a change. And I don’t think Simon really understands. Maybe it’s something he’ll figure out in time.

I hope so.

“I don’t know, man,” Nick says to Bram, “I still think this is too good to pass up. Imagine what it’ll be like to be sitting at home, stalking Instagram, wishing you were with Simon in all his selfies…”

Bram just rolls his eyes, but there’s something about Nick’s posture that’s bothering me. He’s turned practically all the way toward Bram, almost as if…

...as if he’s trying extremely hard not to look at me.

“Nick,” I say. He snaps his head toward me. That was the first time he’s heard me say his name since prom, and he looks so pleased I want to smack him. “Why did you wait until today to come to New York? Spring break started on Saturday.”

“I wanted to see -- uh, Simon. And he wasn’t here over the weekend.”

Time to go out on a limb. A pretty solid limb, I’m guessing.

“That’s true. But it wasn’t true until last week, when he realized he needed a few extra days to work on a paper.” I turn to Simon, whose brow is wrinkled. “Simon, did you tell Nick about that paper?”

“No,” he says, looking at Nick. “How did you…”

“What the _ fuck_,” Leah interrupts. Her I Will Straight-Up _ End _ You face is back, and it’s pointed right at Nick.

It’s a little ironic that she maybe-possibly-probably fantasizes about me dressed as Wonder Woman, considering how protective _ she _ is of _ me_.

“Are you fucking Instagram-stalking my girlfriend?” Leah asks. Nick swallows hard, but he doesn’t need to answer. Last night, I posted a photo of Leah and me on the train. My caption tagged both Bram and Simon, and I specifically wrote that we couldn’t wait for Simon to join us the next day.

“I thought I blocked you,” I say. I mean, I _ know _ I blocked him. He kept liking every photo of me and Leah, even while he was actively avoiding both of us, and it creeped me out.

“New account,” Nick mumbles. Then he turns to Leah and seems to find his voice again. “And she was _ my _ \-- I mean, I have a right to -- she’s not -- you’re just her --” He throws up his hands. “When are you going to stop pretending?”

Leah’s fingernails are digging into my leg. I gently pry up her fingers and lace them through mine, and we squeeze each other’s hands like Nick’s head is in between them.

“Nick,” Simon starts, but Leah and I both silence him with a glare.

“Pretending?” Leah says.

“Look,” Nick says, “I know you wanted me to leave you alone last year. I get it. You broke up with me, and you didn’t want me getting in the way of your summer. So you… you know…” He gestures between Leah and me.

Leah drops my hand. Her chair scrapes the floor as she practically leaps to her feet. “You know,” she says, “I’ve always thought most people were pretty terrible. I can’t believe it took me this long to realize you were too.”

“Come on, Leah,” Nick says. “I’ve known you for years. You’re not gay.” My eyes flick to Simon, who’s staring at Nick like he’s never seen him properly before. “And _ you_,” he says, facing me, “were pretty damn straight the whole time you were with _ me_.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Leah says to me. I was about to let loose on him - on this asshole I’m increasingly disappointed in myself for dating - but she’s right. He’s not worth it.

“We’ll text you,” I say to Bram. We turn to leave, and Leah takes my hand again.

“You’re not fooling me,” Nick says. “I bet you haven’t even slept together.”

That stops both of us short - just for a second, but _ fucking hell_, that’s still too much satisfaction to give that pathetic little boy. I can feel the eyes of other diners on us as we escape out the door and into the busy New York City afternoon.


	5. Chapter 5

I don't even know where we're going. All that matters is _ going _ \- far away from what we left behind. 

People hurry past us but I barely notice them.

How _ could _he?

It's been a fucking year and he still thinks this is all about him. Like I live my life and make my choices to purposefully spite him. News flash, asshole: I broke up with you because _I_ wanted to. Because it was the right choice for _me_.

And Leah… okay, I know getting together with someone new so soon after a breakup isn't the greatest look, but I didn't care about that then and I'm not going to start now. I can't help it that it was an awkward time to figure out just how much I was into her.

How much I _ am _ into her.

_ “I bet you haven’t even slept together.” _

God_ damn _ it. He just _ had _ to say that. Now all my fantasizing, all my _ want _, all those moments the last two days when Leah was touching me and I needed --

I literally _ just _ admitted to myself how badly I want Leah, and the universe couldn’t let me have that for five fucking minutes. It’s contaminated, twisted up in seven obnoxious words from my fuckwad of an ex.

What, is he bitter that I never slept with _ him_? Or - oh my god, is he _ turned on _ by the thought of Leah and me --

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. So much nope.

I concentrate on Leah, on her fingers and mine laced together, on her tight grip that keeps me close, refusing to let any kind of space get between us.

It calms me, pulls me back from the wildfire thoughts.

And then we cross a street and we’re suddenly in a park. Central Park, I’m guessing, since it stretches on as far as I can see.

“Did you lead us here on purpose?” I ask.

Leah shakes her head. “I didn’t even know we were close to it.”

It’s quiet here. I don’t know how that’s possible - the city is literally right there - but somehow it is. Our pace slows, but we don’t let go of each other.

It feels like Leah’s working up to saying something. If it was just cussing out Nick she wouldn’t be hesitating, so it must be more important than that. I wait for her to find the words, a little nervous because I’ve been so wrapped up in my own head that I’m only now considering what she’s thinking about all this.

Nick was her friend for a long time. And now he’s her girlfriend’s ex - quite possibly her girlfriend’s _ jealous _ ex. That’s an emotional minefield even _ I’d _ run screaming from.

“Did you --” she says, cutting herself off. Two squirrels dart across the trees lining the path. “Were you and -- you and Nick -- you know…”

I’m not sure what she means, but it seems like she interprets my confusion for something else because she rushes on before I can say anything. “I mean, it’s no big deal, I don’t have a problem with it. I’m just… never mind, forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”

“Hey,” I say, because it just dawned on me what’s happening here. I stop walking and put my hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay. It just took me a second to figure out what you meant. And no - we weren’t. We didn’t. We…”

I want to be honest with her, but I _ really _ don’t want to think about Nick anymore.

“We did… some stuff. But nothing... I don’t know, legit?” Leah’s watching me so intently. She’s trying really hard to keep her face stoic, but I can tell she’s worried.

Worried that I slept with Nick.

But she’s not the type of person who would hold that against me. Which means…

I step toward her, draping my arms down her back and hugging her. She responds so fast it’s practically instinct, her palms on my lower back, holding me tight.

Can I live the rest of my life being held by Leah Burke? Please?

“I’ve already gone further with you than anyone else,” I whisper. “You’ll be my first, too.”

A second passes, and then it hits me - _ shit, shit, shit_. “I mean, if you want to be. I didn’t mean -- I don’t want to pressure you. I’m fine with where we’re at -- no, not fine, it’s fucking _ amazing _ \-- but I’m totally okay with whatever you want, we don’t have to --”

“I want to,” Leah says.

I pull back a little, enough to look at her. She’s bright red, but she meets my gaze with a cautious smile.

“You want to?” I ask, trying not to sound as eager as the pounding that has suddenly erupted _ everywhere in my body_.

“I want to.” Her smile slips ever so slightly. “Do… do you?”

“Yes,” I say the instant the words leave her lips, and then I kiss her for good measure. A couple of joggers pass by us and wolf-whistle, but nothing can bring me down from this moment because Holy. Shit.

I’m already making plans.

In three and a half days we’ll arrive back in our room in Athens. Three and a half days until we’re alone and in private and I seriously don’t know if I can wait that long but what can you do.

We’ll be bone-tired from another full day of travel but that’s not going to stop us, not if I have anything to say about it.

We’ll drop our things at the door and I’ll lead her to our bedroom and we’ll already be hugging, kissing, touching, and she’ll have my shirt off before we reach the bed (my bed, because it’s closer and because every second wasted is a tragedy) and I’ll reach down to unbutton her jeans and her fingers will graze the skin above my underwear and --

Leah sighs. It throws me for a second - I’m lost in sensations so tantalizingly close, and suddenly real life is echoing my fantasy - but then I realize it’s something different. She sounds strained, and not in the why-is-this-trip-so-effing-long kind of way.

I tilt my head, giving her a questioning look and wondering if she can feel the heat radiating off me.

"It just sucks that we have to prove it," she says.

“Prove what?”

“You know…” She gestures back the way we came, and oh. Right. The thing I was literally stressing out about five minutes ago.

It’s both thrilling and a little terrifying how completely the world disappears when I’m daydreaming about Leah’s touch.

“We don’t,” I say. “We don’t have to prove anything to him.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not just him. It’s… like, think about all the people who assume we’re lesbian.”

I’m not entirely sure how that’s related, but it’s true - nobody’s first guess is that we’re bi. I guess people want us to fit into neater, simpler boxes.

“But they believe us when we tell them,” I say.

“Some of them, yeah, but I don’t think all of them do. I mean, you’ve at least had boyfriends. I haven’t.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not bi.”

“I know it doesn’t, but…” She takes my hand and starts walking down the path, back toward the park exit. “A lot of people don’t see it that way. And then that dickwad goes and says… that…” We stop at a bench and sit, and I lean my head on her shoulder. “It’s different but it’s the same, right? Like, you’re not bi unless you’ve been with both guys and girls. And you’re straight unless you’re hooking up with someone a straight person wouldn’t hook up with.” She sighs again. “Straight girls don’t have to fuck guys to prove they’re straight, you know?”

“Yeah,” I say softly. Sometimes I forget how new I am to the world of being openly Not Straight. Leah’s clearly thought about this a ton, while I haven’t even considered it.

But her words resonate with me anyway, for a different reason.

“It _ sucks _,” Leah says. “And I can’t shake this stupid feeling that I only said what I said just now because I’m trying to prove it.”

We’re quiet for a minute. I want to comfort her, but I can’t pretend I’m not worried about that too.

“You know what I wonder sometimes?” I say. “What I would be like if I were white. Or a guy. Or both.”

She lifts my hand to her lips and kisses it. “I’m pretty glad you’re not. I’ve had enough of white boys for a lifetime.”

I smile, but it fades quickly. “Seriously, though. You know how hard I work - how hard I _ have _ to work, just so people treat me like a real person. Just to prove that I’m as capable as anyone else.”

God, this isn’t easy to talk about.

“What if I didn’t have to do that? Would I still work hard? Would I push myself? Maybe I wouldn’t have accomplished as much as I have.”

“But you’d have more privilege,” Leah says. “You would have been handed a lot of it for free.”

“I guess. But… it’s weird not knowing who _ I _ am. Like, which part of me is _ me_, and which part is only there because I’m trying to prove everyone wrong? Sometimes I think about all the shit I do to stay out of people’s stereotypes, and then I realize I’m _ still _ letting those stereotypes control my life.”

She puts an arm around my waist and squeezes. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“For what?”

“I don’t know, like, on behalf of white people. I’m so fucking sorry. You deserve so much better. You’re smart and you’re talented and you can do _ anything_, Abby Suso. You kick _ so much ass_, and I will fucking _ destroy _ anyone who says otherwise.”

I give her a kiss on the cheek. “You know what I mean, though, right?”

She nods.

And then we sit for a while and watch the bikers and hikers and dog-walkers and runners. I’m still hyper-aware of her against me, but I’m not sure what to do about it. Everything feels more complicated all of a sudden.

My stomach rumbles. “Oh yeah,” I say, “we didn’t get our pizza.”

“Shit. I totally forgot. That fucking asshole.”

I grin. “I could have forgiven the stalking and the heteronormative bigotry, but denying us New York City pizza? _ That’s _ where I draw the line.”

“You’re damn right,” Leah says, standing up and pulling me to my feet. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

We’re probably halfway to the edge of the park when she says, “I seriously can’t believe he said that. I’ve been friends with him for _ so long_. Did I just totally misjudge him?”

“If you did, then I did too.” A twinge of guilt arcs through my chest. “I’m sorry if this makes things awkward for you. I mean, if you still want to be friends with him, I get it, it’s fine - I don’t want you to have to… I don’t know, choose between me and him or whatever.”

She snorts. “Like that’s even a contest. I don’t _ love _ Nick Eisner.”

My breath catches in my throat.

I stop walking, my mouth hanging open.

I can hear my heart beating a loud and furious rhythm.

Leah takes a couple of steps before she realizes I’m not next to her. She turns to look at me and…

I see the moment when it dawns on her. Her eyes go wide, her face pales, and I can tell she’s about to start rambling - trying to brush the moment off - but I won’t let her.

“You love me?”

Color rushes back into her cheeks, and it’s like she wants to look at me and look at anything _ but _ me at the same time.

“I…” she stammers. “Abby, I… Y--”

And okay, I know I should have jumped in to rescue her by now, but she’s so damn cute when she’s flustered. It doesn’t happen that often, and I like to savor it when it does. Sue me.

“Leah,” I say, closing the distance between us. “I love you.”

God, the way she lights up. All those things they say? You know, butterflies in the stomach, heart skipping a beat, so happy and exhilarated you feel dizzy? Doesn’t even come close to describing it.

“I love you, Abby,” she says into my hair. Sometime in the last few milliseconds, we wrapped ourselves around each other.

Sometime in the milliseconds after that, I make a decision.

We are here. We are here and we are together and we are in love.

We are in _ love_.

And we are going to love each other _ so fucking hard_.

I feel in my back pocket for the spare key Bram gave us when we left this morning - yep, still there. I untangle myself from Leah just enough to pull out my phone, and send Bram a text: _ Need you & S to return the favor. _

Leah’s gaze moves from the screen to me. “The only thing I need to prove,” I say, “is exactly how much I love you.”

She swallows. “You sure?”

“Positive. You?”

A beat passes - and then her face splits into the hungriest smile I have ever seen.


	6. Chapter 6

We realize pretty quickly that we’re going to need some calories, so we stop at a cart just outside the park and buy pita sandwiches and Gatorade. Because that’s apparently a totally normal combination in this city.

The downside is that eating’s pretty hard to do while you’re running, so we have to settle for walking as fast as we can. We keep glancing at each other in between bites, our mouths too full to say anything - or maybe this just isn’t a time for words.

I swear there’s electricity between us. I know that sounds totally cliche, but how else do you explain the spark that surges through me every time our eyes meet?

My thighs brush together with every step. I don’t think I’ve ever been this aware of them. Must be something to do with the heat building between them.

We finish our food right as we reach Bram’s building, which has got to be a sign from the universe. In the elevator, Leah presses the button and turns to me, and we’re standing face to face for the first time since that moment in the park.

Her eyes rake over my body.

I want to touch her. I _ need _ to touch her.

But I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to stop once I do.

And she doesn’t reach for my hand, which makes me think we’re on the same page.

Holy _ shit_. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my life.

The elevator doors open and Leah practically runs out. I slide a hand over myself - just for a second - just because I can’t resist - and oh _ god_, I’m already so wet.

I’m trembling as I fumble with the key, praying that Bram’s roommate hasn’t come back for some unknown catastrophe of a reason.

He hasn’t.

We’re alone.

Leah shuts the door behind us.

She’s on me before my next breath. Or, maybe I’m on _ her _ before hers. All I know is the press of her body on mine, the mash of my lips on hers, our hands _ everywhere_.

She takes a few steps, backing me up, and suddenly I’m up against the wall and Leah pushes herself against me and I’m breathless, I’m on fire, my arms are around her and I’m pulling her tighter, grinding into her because _ I cannot wait to be touched a fucking second longer_.

Leah’s breath is hot on my skin as she starts kissing my ear, my neck, my shoulder, and how is this bliss and agony at the same time? Her hips move to the side, away from mine, and I’m about to _ scream _ when --

When I feel her fingers at my waist.

Unbuttoning my jeans.

Sliding inside.

I --

lose track of everything --

except this --

her touch trailing along the edges of my underwear --

ducking in --

and out --

I --

"_Lee_," I moan, fists clenched in her hair, my thoughts going to pieces right along with the rest of me.

I need -- I need to -- to see her -- eyes. With a soft tug, I pull her lips back to mine, and our gazes lock, and her stare --

is so --

_ intense _\--

she _ wants _me --

she _ loves _me --

Someone is gasping, moaning, desperate, and -- _ fuck_, I didn't know I could _ make _ those sounds.

Leah pulls back, just for a second, just long enough for me to see the corners of her mouth curl up, like she's --

Like she's -- 

I don't even have a chance to finish that thought.

Her tongue parts my lips as she crashes back into me, and at the same time her fingers _ finally _ plunge beneath the fabric between my legs.

And I'm...

I'm…

...thrusting my hips…

...needing that friction…

..._more _friction…

...her fingers slip and slide over me…

...and down…

...down…

..._inside _me...

And I am _ gone_.

And -- okay, if you've never had an orgasm standing up, maybe you don't know this. I certainly didn't. But it's basically impossible to keep holding yourself up.

I fall against Leah, trembling and pounding and crying out and crying the happiest tears of my life.

She catches me. She'll _ always _ catch me.

But I guess maybe she wasn't totally ready for it. We topple together, landing in a heap on the air mattress we slept on last night.

I'm only semi-aware of this happening. Most of me is still lost in the blaze and haze of bliss.

And then I notice the scent.

The scent of _ me_.

It's on Leah's fingers, pressed against my cheek.

I realize my eyes are closed. I open them and see her - _ her_, my Leah, my love.

The room is dark but her eyes are bright.

Bright and _ burning_.

I take a shuddering, steadying breath. I kiss her with all my might, trying to convey my swirling emotions and sensations and endorphins in the only way I can manage right now.

Then I pull off her top and keep kissing her.

I kiss her chin, her neck, her collarbone. I slide my lips down the soft curves of her chest, nuzzling, playful.

Leah shivers. She pushes herself up slightly and undoes her bra.

Then her hands slip under my sweater, and soon we are both topless.

She is _ so beautiful_. So gorgeous and sexy and _ mine_.

We're still for approximately two seconds, just appreciating each other, and then looking becomes utterly insufficient. We press and caress, our breaths hot and quick, and when my tongue glides over her breasts she positively growls.

I roll off her, still wrapped tightly around her body - but now my arm is free to slide up her leg, gently squeeze her thigh, inch upward.

Slowly, slowly upward.

And further up, just above the snap of her jeans.

Tracing delicate circles around her belly button. (An innie.)

And down her other thigh.

"_Abby_," Leah exhales. Her breathing is strained; her fingers fist my hair, my shoulder, my ass.

"What's wrong?" I ask, as my hand begins its lazy trek back up her legs.

Leah groans so loud the whole block must have heard her. She bites her lip, her eyes dark and liquid, and oh, _ fuck_, do I ever _ want _ her. I used to think I knew what desire was, but I was wrong.

I was _ very _wrong.

I sit up and scoot down to her feet. I unzip her jeans and pull as she wriggles out of them. Her underwear is green --

And thrillingly wet.

My palms work their way up the bare inside of her thighs, exposed to me at last, and Leah lets out a sound of desperation.

I could keep teasing her, but you know what? I've waited long enough.

I yank off her underwear and position myself right above her.

Position my _ mouth _right above her.

This feels almost surreal. How many times have I dreamt about this, about seeing Leah, seeing _ all _of Leah, drinking in the sight of her --

Drinking _ her -- _

I tilt my head back to see Leah staring at me, her expression battling between nerves and thrill, _ wait _ and _ go_.

I raise my eyebrows, trying and failing to temper my ravenous grin.

And then the battle is over, and the look in her eyes tells me clearly what to do.

I dive between her legs.

And --

and _ this _ \--

my tongue slipping and sliding --

taste, scent, touch --

my name on her lips, over and over and over again --

a crescendo in volume, in the pitch of her hips --

in the heat between my thighs that feels like it never left --

\-- this is beyond _ anything _I'd imagined.

Leah squirms, trembles, groans. "Abby," she says again, the only word she can manage, lost in agonizing need.

I shift my tongue lower, lower, and Leah's rapid breaths turn staccato as I thrust inside her and her hips buck and she screams.

And I mean _ screams_. 

Leah Burke is a screamer.

Well, one thing's for sure: if anyone in our dorm at UGA doesn't know we're together, they damn well will.

Leah reaches under my shoulders and pulls me up toward her, smothering me with a kiss. I feel her lips curl into a smirk. "You taste like me," she whispers. "And you're wearing too many clothes."

A problem soon solved.

She stares, _ hard_. It's not subtle.

My senses are quickly overloading again, drunk on the sight of her bare skin and the heat of her gaze and the all-consuming scent of sex.

And then - I'm not even aware of moving, it's just happening all of a sudden - I'm on top of her, rolling my hips forward and back, side to side, grinding into her, both of us absolutely soaked.

Both of us sated and somehow still _ desperate_.

I guess when you let the tension build for so long, one snap isn't enough to break it.

We moan simultaneously and break helplessly into giggles - but they quickly subside as we keep kissing, keep twisting and thrusting, searching for angles with ever more perfect friction.

I clutch her cheeks as she runs her hands down my back, caressing and pressing and then --

And then she moans long and loud, and her fingernails dig into my skin, and she is a trembling, gasping mess.

I roll off her and press my fingers between her legs, massaging to draw out this precious beautiful sexy perfect moment. She rocks gently against my touch, biting her lip, and… and right now, she is an open book.

Leah protects her heart _ fiercely_. She kept it so well fortified for so long that I almost didn't manage to break through and find my place in it.

But in this moment, her eyes are wide open and her heart pours out.

And I am… I am…

Crying?

Fuck, I'm crying.

I'm madly in love with my girlfriend (and still near-crazy with lust), and I'm lying naked with her, and I'm crying.

Leah wraps me up and squeezes. "Abs, what's wrong?"

"I just…" I sniffle. "I just… love you… so much."

Oh. My. God.

I did _ not _just say that.

Am I even a real person, or is my life just an embarrassingly cheesy rom-com?

Leah laughs and squeezes harder. "I love you too. Not sure if you could tell, what with all the… you know…"

"Screaming?"

I can feel her grin against my cheek. She kisses me - my nose, my chin, my closed eyes.

"How do even your _ tears _taste sweet?" she says. "I'm a little concerned you don't eat enough sodium."

That gets me laughing, my random fit of crying fading at last.

"I should probably check… elsewhere," Leah adds, her voice an octave lower. "You know, see how you taste…" She leans into my ear and whispers: "..._inside_."

My eyes are dry. Other parts? Not so much.

Leah lays me on my back and turns her attention below my waist. I'm suddenly antsy, squirmy, impatient. Her lips float millimeters above me, her nose tracing lazy curves up and down my thighs --

Fuck this.

I grab the back of her head and give her a push, closing the distance.

For a moment, neither of us moves. I think we're both shocked I just did that.

"Lee, I'm --"

"Nope," she says, cutting me off. She has to lift back up to talk, and my hips hitch involuntarily with the lack of contact. "If that's what you need, then…"

Her tongue presses into me and I inhale _ hard_, my back arching.

"...it would be…" she says, punctuating each word with another taste. My fists are clenched in her hair. Come to think of it, my whole _ body _ is clenched.

"...my…" She glides over and around, up and down and every which way, and _ how did she get so good at this_.

"..._pleasure_." And I know what's coming before it happens.

Oh.

_ Oh_.

Oh _ fuck. _

Leah's tongue is _ inside me_.

And I --

cannot --

find --

any --

words --

except --

I hear myself shout her name as I barrel straight over the top and down, oh so gloriously blissfully magnificently down, into the arms of my girl --

Well, first she spends a bit more time between my legs, keeping me going and positively _ drinking _ me, which, okay, I know I've said this before, but _ that _ is the sexiest fucking thing that has ever happened to me.

Only _ then_, once my body has stilled, does she lie down next to me and take me into her arms.

"You're amazing," I breathe. "And so, _ so _sexy."

She kisses me. I taste myself on her lips.

"God, do you have _ any _ idea how fucking hot you are, Abby Suso?"

"I mean, I think I have _ some _\--"

"Because you are just _ so. Unbelievably. Hot. _ I can't even describe it."

I smile. "I think you just did."

I give her another kiss, soft and deep. It's not frenzied or desperate - it's a different kind of passionate.

This time, it's not my libido aching for her - it's my heart.

And it doesn't just want her now. It wants her forever.


	7. Chapter 7

We’re still giggling as we walk into our room in Athens. My cheeks hurt like I’ve been laughing for hours - which, yeah, I guess I have.

On our last night in New York, Simon and Bram took us to see this absolutely one hundred percent amazing off-Broadway show called Puffs. It’s a spoof Harry Potter, from the point of view of the Hufflepuffs in Harry’s year - and it was the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life.

As it turns out, they filmed a performance of it a while back, and the video’s available on Amazon. Leah and I discovered that about two seconds into the train ride back to Georgia.

Needless to say, we spent the rest of the trip watching it over and over and over, cocooned in our own little world of laughter and love for the poor Puffs, joined to each other by a shared pair of headphones, her arm around my waist, my head on her shoulder.

Now we set down our bags, slip out of our shoes at last, and collapse on the couch. “Guys,” Leah says, quoting one of the main characters, “the headmaster looks _ different _ this year!”

We’ve revisited this line - a reference to the new actor taking over the role of Dumbledore in the third movie - dozens of times already, but I still crack up.

We laugh together for a few seconds, and then we both sigh. “God, my face is exhausted,” I say. “Can your mouth get stuck in a grin if you do it too much?”

Leah shrugs, her eyes moving to my lips. My heart speeds up. It occurs to me suddenly that we’re alone in a private room, for the first time since --

Her phone lights up. I see Simon’s face on the screen, sitting on the cushion between us.

Leah grimaces. “If this becomes a pattern, I might have to block his number.” She reluctantly answers the call and puts it on speaker. “We literally _ just _ got back,” she says.

“I know!” he says. “I was checking the Amtrak site.”

My eyebrows raise in time with Leah’s. “And you were cyberstalking us because…”

“Not cyberstalking!” He’s somewhere between mock hurt and real hurt. “I just… you know, wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“Mhmm,” I say. “And the real reason?”

He sighs. “Okay, you got me. Bram and I had… a talk.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, and I start to get nervous. Leah looks worried too - we really are on the same page so often. Or maybe we both just know Simon too well.

“Oh, Simon,” I say, “you didn’t…”

“No, no, everything’s fine, we’re still together.” We breathe a collective (but quiet) sigh of relief. “But… he’s not going to come on the trip.”

“So everything is _ not _ fine,” Leah says.

“Yes, I mean, no, I mean, it _ should _ be fine, shouldn’t it?”

Leah groans. “Dude, we’ve had this conversation like fifty-seven times. I don’t know what you expect to hear this time that you don’t already know.”

“I know, it’s just… like, it didn’t bother you guys that I bought your Puffs tickets, right?”

I had a feeling that was coming. “That’s different, Simon, and you know it.”

“And it was a _ little _ weird,” Leah says. “I mean, I get that it was a surprise and everything, and it was amazing and I love you for it, but… I don’t know, it still felt a little weird.”

“But I told you not to worry about it!”

“And we didn’t,” I say, my voice firmer. I need him to stop spiraling and get his shit together. “Look, we’ve talked about this. Money is privilege. When you have it, you don’t have to think about it the way other people do. And yes,” I cut him off, because he’s trying to interrupt, “I know you _ try _ to think about it, and we appreciate that.”

“But thinking about it doesn’t mean paying for us,” Leah says. “Next time, _ ask _ us first. Because when you tell us after the fact and don’t even give us the option to pay you back, it takes away our agency.”

Damn. I love it when my girl talks agency.

“We’re not mad at you, Simon,” I say, because he hasn’t responded yet. “Just telling you how we feel. You’ve gotta let people make their own choices, even if you’re just trying to be nice - even if they don’t make the choice you wanted.”

“Bram loves you,” Leah adds. “So stop stressing to us and go call _ him_.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding sulky. Leah rolls her eyes at me.

“Everything’s fine, Simon,” I say. “Text us tomorrow.”

Leah hangs up and tosses the phone onto her bed. “If there’s an ounce of justice in this universe,” she says, “I won’t have to spend my entire life explaining rich white boys’ privilege to them.”

“Preach.” I stretch out, laying my head in her lap and closing my eyes. It’s cozy here, uncomplicated. Her fingers caress my cheeks, skim through my hair, brush over my lips - which part of their own accord.

And then her hands move further down, her touch growing insistent.

I open my eyes to find hers locked on mine. “It’s funny,” I say.

“What is?” she asks, her hands still swirling.

“I’d call it a privilege to be your girlfriend.” I prop myself up, my lips now inches from hers. “But this kind of privilege is one I _ can’t _ \--” I kiss her. “ _ \-- stop -- _ ” I kiss her again. “-- _ thinking about_.”

And then her arms are tight around my waist and mine are around her neck, and we’re making out _ hard_.

I can still sense, somewhere way in the back of my brain, that I’m tired from a long day of travel.

But you know what? Fuck that. I want _ more_.

I stand up and pull her to her feet, guiding her toward my bed. Our breaths come fast and heavy. At some unspoken signal, Leah pulls off her jeans and I step out of my skirt.

She closes the space between us, puts a hand on my back, kisses me softly - and then pushes me down onto the bed. I’m instantly transported back to Bram’s dorm room, when Leah pressed me against the wall and _ took _ me.

“Lee,” I moan. “I _ need _ you. _ Right now_.”

“Good thing you’ve got me, then,” Leah whispers, climbing on top of me. “And _ nothing’s _ gonna stop me from giving you everything you --”

Someone knocks on the door. “You guys back yet?” a voice calls.

Shit.

_ Shit. _

Leah glances across the room, scowling something fierce. She turns back to me and puts a finger to her lips.

“Look,” the voice says, and now I recognize it - Nodoka. “Victoria saw you walking down the hall earlier. I know you’ve had a long day and everything, but we’ve been _ dying _ to do a set all week. Impromptu jam sesh?”

I’m a little worried Leah’s going to spontaneously combust. Or go punch Nodoka in the face.

“Please?” Nodoka adds.

I take a deep breath. “We’ll be right there,” I call toward the door.

“Great!” Nodoka calls back. “We’ll start setting up!”

“Abby,” Leah says. The anguish in her voice slams full-force into my chest. There’s betrayal in her eyes.

And I mean, I get it. My skin’s still tingling with anticipation of her touch. Her soft, warm body is still draped over me, and there’s a tension between my legs _ begging _ for release.

But I also know a sign from the universe when I see one.

I take her face in my hands.

“Leah Catherine Burke,” I say, “do you remember what I told you after the first time I saw you on the drums in Eva’s room?”

Leah smiles. “That you were a straight girl experimenting.”

I put on the best scowl I can manage, under the circumstances. “_Before _ that, you asshole. Pretty sure I’ve cleared that up by now.”

She swallows. “You said it made you… question some things.”

I grin. “You’re damn right it did. And now here we are, a year later, and you know what I’m questioning?”

She furrows her brow. I don’t wait for her to reply.

“Not. One. Fucking. Thing.” I pull her tight against me and speak softly in her ear. “I love you, Leah Burke. I love you and I’m _ in _ love with you. And I am going to absolutely _ ravage _ your body.”

She shivers from head to toe. Or maybe I do.

“But before we do that, let’s bring this full circle.” I tilt her head so we’re facing each other. Her eyes are wide and watery. “Get your sweet ass to that drum kit and remind me of everything I’ll never question again.”

She laughs, hiccups, and kisses me. “I love you so fucking much, Abby Suso.” She kisses me again. “I don’t… I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

I give her a squeeze. “Something tells me you’ll be getting even luckier later.” She snorts. “Now put some pants on, rock star. You’ve got a groupie to seduce.”

We get out of bed and re-clothe ourselves. We’re almost to the door when I grab her hand.

“Hey,” I say, “you know I feel the same way, right?” She tilts her head, giving me a questioning look. “About -- you know, feeling lucky. No one’s ever loved me like you do. And after how hard I made it for you last year, before prom…”

Leah pulls me into a hug. “I certainly didn’t help. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I can be a little…”

A few seconds pass in silence. “It’s okay,” I say, kissing her temple. “I love you enough to not make you finish that sentence.”

“I knew you were a keeper,” she says, pulling back to smile at me. “And seriously, if I’m the first person to love you like this, then every single person you met before me is a moron.”

“Or not into girls,” I say.

“Okay, yes, that too. But still: morons.”

Our kiss is so passionate I think I’m going to melt into a puddle. But I probably say that about ninety percent of our kisses, and somehow I’m still here, melting only on the inside.

\---

It’s times like these I wish I played an instrument. I know I can sing or whatever, but these guys are so fucking _ badass_.

At least I’m dating the drummer.

No, not just dating. _ Sleeping with _ the drummer.

_ Much _ cooler.

Not that it’s all about sex, of course. But still. I mean, _ look _ at her. Pounding away, banging on every available surface, sweat sticking stray strands of hair to her cheek --

Jesus, just _ describing _ it sounds dirty.

I shift in my seat, trying to settle myself. Caitlin whoops from the next chair over, holding up her phone to record this for the band’s YouTube channel.

I can still remember what it felt like - sitting here, a year ago. Wondering what the future held in store for me. Stuck between a boy who turned out not to matter and a girl who mattered more than I ever imagined.

Which just proves how much my imagination sucked.

I like to think it was… intellectual or something. Like I was so tired of smiling through the stereotypes and the microaggressions, and I didn’t want even _ more _ things to smile through.

It was one of the few privileges I had, you know? I’m a black girl who isn’t as god-fearing as my parents think I am, but at least I liked boys.

Well, I _ still _ like boys. Not a specific boy, just… whatever, you know what I mean.

It was stupid. _ I _ was stupid. Okay, not stupid, just… I don’t know, scared? All that stuff about privilege is true, but it was more of a rationalization after the fact. The truth is…

Oh Jesus, I am _ not _ about to say this.

Fuck.

I was scared of how much I could care about Leah.

...Is it possible to be _ made _ of cliches? Seriously, though - I may have been in denial, but that means I knew there was something to deny. I was more attracted to her than I’d ever been to Nick. And I was so purely, openly _ me _ when I was with her. I didn’t have to pretend to be someone she wanted me to be.

Or maybe I already _ was _ who she wanted me to be.

Something brings me back to the present. It’s Leah, watching me, her gaze dissolving the haze of history.

She twists on her stool, her hands flying faster than I can follow - and through it all, she never breaks eye contact.

We look at each other. We look and look and look, and our lips are curled into grins, and a current of longing and belonging and _ joy _ passes between us, and I swear we’re the only two people here.

“Okay,” Caitlin says, and I realize Leah’s stopped playing - the whole band has stopped playing, in fact, which cues me in to the fact that they’re all still in the room - “y’all need to get a_ room_.”

“We _ have _ a room,” Leah says, her cheeks flushed - maybe from exertion, maybe not. “In fact, we were _ in _ that room before _ somebody _ came pounding on our door.”

Nodoka rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Everyone good?” She looks around at the others, who nod. Tom even waggles his eyebrows at me.

“Man,” Victoria says, “you two give me hope for the world.”

Which would make me happy in some other context - but right now I don’t much care about the world. I just need my girl.

We walk back to our room, quiet and quick. I lie down on my bed and she crawls in next to me, closer and closer until our lips touch. Until our hands meet. Until our legs intertwine.

Until our breaths mix, heating the supercharged air between us.

Until our voices grow strained and desperate.

Until we cry out

again

and again

and again.

Until before becomes after.

And I realize, as we cuddle somewhere between wakefulness and sleep - between dreams conscious and not - that after is just the next before.

On and on and on.

Forever.


End file.
